Into The Woods
by Darth Vader C11
Summary: He traversed the path to his grandmother's house for fifteen years. Fifteen years of trodding down one tired trail; but now, as he treads through the snow to carry a basket of bread to the old woman, Alois crosses another path...this one bearing eyes that are ravenous, enrapturing, and as golden as the sun. AloisxClaude, just read the story. ;
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: It starts with an introduction type thing, then dives into the story. So, just tell me what you think about it. Any comments are much appreciated. Thank you! (Attention: This is NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT Black Twilight 2, nor does it have ANYTHING to do with that "piece of crack" fanfiction. So read this.) **

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_Waltzing down the winding path_

His footsteps imprint upon the route he has traversed every winter for the past fifteen years; his xenon irises more frigid than the silent snow slipping from the solemn sky.

_To weigh the fork between the trees_

He stops. Burlap boots penetrate the virgin snow, soaking through as he contemplates a divergence that had never been there before. Left…or right?

_The way unchartered, obscured by fate_

He hesitates when a chill rides up the red cloak he bears. Something in the wind shifts; the motionless world around him incites infantile stages of impulse – he slides deeper into the statuesque trap of indecision until he can almost distinguish the glittering eyes of glory, searing into him and urging him onward; onto the path to the left. Or…did that piercing aureolin stare originate _outside _his imagination? The wind shifts again.

_An omen waiting in the breeze. _

He dares to step forward. The tip of his left boot collides with the first fingerbreadth of deception, but his inexperienced toes don't yet know the difference between fidelity and falsehood. Another shift and the breeze beckons him.

_Hoheo taralna_

It whispers softly; chanting a promise.

_Rondero tarel. _

_~3~_

"Don't forget the wine, my love." The mother croons while feebly holding a full bottle, as purple as the tired bruises beneath each cobalt sphere, then lowers it into her child's small woven basket.

He gazes up into her eyes as his own electric blue irises shine below flaxen hair; his mother's faded strands scrape against his supple skin as if to draw the youth from his moon-kissed arm.

"Do you remember the way, my darling?" She slinks back, offering a listless smile before tracing the child's face with the withered fingers of a widow.

"Yes, mother." His voice is reverent - the speech of a still-young child who has never done wrong.

"Good, mind your manners with your grandmother." She looks into his eyes but sees the face of another.

Somehow, the boy knows that when she scrutinizes him this way, it's his dead infant brother she sees.

"And Alois," She shuffles towards the door, unruly and lusterless bangs casting shadows over her eyes. "Be wary of strangers."

"Yes, mother."

~3~

The creaking of the closing door leaves him at the mercy of the vacuous woodland; accompanied only by the billowing breath that escapes flushed lips, encased in only a cape as sanguine as the liquid shying from numbing veins, guided across the snow-veiled paths by intuition alone. Alois persists to let his booted feet sink into the thick conglomeration, his tender body drowning deeper into the darkening asylum as he treads through the shroud of steady snow - towards the hut that rests on the other end.

Two heavily lashed lids tilt towards each other, eyes straining to penetrate ashen sediment, pupils distorting and distending to distinguish – to verify – the sight those lucid orbs behold.

Before him, the path of leaves he knows lies suffocating under the thick white blanket – but that is not what vexes him. One path would immediately register in his memory as the correct place to place his feet. One path would undoubtedly lead him to his grandmother. One path, though covered, would still be clear enough to follow without trepidation. But _two_? There had always been_ one _path after this clearing, - he remembers – nottwo. The weight of decision presses down on slender shoulders, constricts a callow chest.

Heat snakes up his spine with ribald respiration; something's watching him, searing skin and making it sizzle as the icy flakes meet his forearms.

It is then that the child glances sideways.

Limbs of dusted trees groan as more weight is added to their burden, but they hush along with the rest of the land as two golden irises push between the weary evergreens to capture the eyes of another.

The young one's breath hitches as liquid gold melts shallow blue. A blink from the boy to test his sight, and then, when he spots that predatorial, animalistic stare a second time, the slits within the trees mimic his wink. The eyes, along with the navigational doubt within the boy, are gone.

Faster now, he travels down the path to the right, footsteps flowing and flurrying through the thick snow as if the substance were dust. A few more beats of his heart and he's standing in front of a crumbling, pigeonhole of a house. Neither the disintegrating roof, nor the cavity-infested log walls – not even the sight of his grandmother, decrepit and twisting gapped teeth into a scowl above emaciated arms - can liberate his mind from those ravenous, enrapturing eyes.

"Go inside." She spares no second for formalities, flicking her gnarled wrist towards the open door behind her and waiting until the child ambles through it before briskly scanning the area for predators. Finding none but feeling no less uneasy, the silver haired beldam slides after her grandson into the hut, jutting her nose over the threshold once more – just incase – before locking herself in from the outside world.

A cauldron-esque pot burbles faintly over a faded fire, contributing to the esoteric atmosphere. Little fingers fold too tightly over the basket's handle. "I brought you bread, grandmother."

"You look horrible."

Alois persists. "And wine…mother sent you some wine as well."

"I should have known that useless woman wasn't feeding you." The pot in the corner threatens to spill it's scalding contents all over the dirt floor, the fire growing and encircling the burnt black bottom centimeter by centimeter until the old woman comes to beat it away with a spoon. "I suppose I'll have to allow you to stay for dinner." In truth, he would rather starve. "But don't get all soft on me; it's only because I'll never hear the end of it from the council if someone sees a scrawny and unfed kid coming from my house! Now sit."

"Grandmother," Above the phlebotomized meat slab, he compels himself to remain courteous, all the while resisting the urge to refuse the half-charred, half-bleeding deer dinner and leave altogether. But he knows he stayed for a reason. "That new path in the clearing before your house…the one to the left…" A pink pool emerges in the plate as pallid pads poke and pry at raw meat. The boy's eyes dance with phantom images of his grandmother tearing through the animal and tossing lumps of it into the pot; he doesn't notice the sudden rigidness in her posture – the immediate intimidation within those clouded pupils. "Where does it lead? What's at the end of it?" At her silence he pauses, placing the soiled fingers atop his lap and wiping the blood into the old woman's tablecloth as his eyes meet her pursed lips.

"It was made to keep hunters away from the villages on this side…that's all…" There's no doubt, as words are reduced to whispers, that she attempts to convince herself – not the child.

"So then," he presses, "do you think there are people living on that side too?" To appear apathetic, Alois' eyes drop to the wooden surface again where his nails draw circles around the plate. But, he quickly steals a glance at the other's reaction when his pupils slip to the corner of his narrowed lids.

Not a second passes before she snaps. "Don't be _ridiculous!_" Deeply creased fists clap against the table, blood from the meat splashing carelessly upon her frothing lips. Embarrassed, the crone combs a disheveled grey lock back into place and gently interweaves long fingers with a staggered breath. Above all, she clings to her refinement. "What I mean to say, is that if you come across anything from that side – human or animal," _Another slip in the wrong direction_, it crosses her mind like a calming ritual, _and I might end up like that heathen that married my son._ "It would be in your best interest to stay away."

With that, the child stomachs the dead deer, thanks his grandmother for the meal as he sets his mother's basket upon the table, and takes his leave.

"Miserable old wretch." Alois mumbles as soon as the biting cold reacquaints itself with his skin. "I hope you burn in Hell."

Moonlight saturates solidified snow, gracing the child with a glowing course beneath his feet that crunches and crumbles with the quickening pace of his heart. Where before he wavered, now he wants; those titillating irises, coveted and curious, drive him deeper towards danger and desire – just as gold should.

At last, when the second path resurfaces, the empty trail shining and solitary beneath its groaning evergreens – not a footprint of man or beast to mar its resilience, the boy slows. Disappointment is but a temporary wrinkle on his face, for just as he begins to distrust his own sanity, something catches his eye.

Out of the bushes – close enough to the untrodden path for him to _know_, springs the swift slipshod shape of a horrendous animal, grey as coal and whipping woolen sheets of heavy, unkempt hide through the gale. For the few seconds it steals the boy's sight, it exposes one thing; it's eyes, ravenous and enrapturing, would lure any man gluttonous for gold.

And as the wolf-like atrocity leaves Alois with only a whisper of wind in his hair and a gaping mouth as any indication that it had actually passed through, the boy stands stunned to silence for only a moment before continuing home on quivering feet, the atmosphere growing colder evermore.

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**A/N: ****So yep. That's the first chapter. It's just something new I'm trying, and if you don't review there's no way I'm gonna know what you thought of it, so if you want to leave me hate mail, that's fine...? I suppose? I mean, at least I'll know what you think. May or may not continue this...it depends on what you people think about it haha but seriously, please review so I can have a general idea of the reception of those words up there. Lol Thanks so much! =D**

**Disclaimer: (Can I put this at the bottom...?) I don't own Kuroshitsuji or Little Red Ridinghood. I'm pretty sure that story is so old the rights to it are pretty much ineffectual by now...**

**Side Note: For all two of you who read my first fic Black Twilight...I suppose you can say I'm THINKING about a sequel. It'll be up. Eventually. Whether you're there to read it or not. =_=; But thanks to everyone who did read and review it. **


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Helloooo. I have returned. I just want to thank everyone for reviewing and all that; all that matters to me is that at least one person liked it, and just knowing that makes me incredibly happy. (WOOT!) And thank you for the constructive criticism guys; I realize I can get carried away with the syntax of the syllables rather than the actual meanings the words convey. lol I'll have to work on that so let me know how I'm doing! Anyways, anybody else that has suggestions or constructive criticism, please please please feel free to voice your opinions. That's the only way I'll ever improve lol Okay. Here are some words on a page. Enjoy. Or don't enjoy. Whatever makes you happiest.

This chapter may get…pretty gross.

Chapter Two:

In the chill of the storm something lingers around him.

Softly, at first, it hovers aimlessly about his toes - a light twitch of the ligaments. Piece by piece, as those toes pad against the path home, it dissipates upward - a minor chill creeping up each leg's malleable muscle. Then comes the more distinguishable weight in his stomach; Alois knows this one – recognizes it all too well as the exact slumping sensation that bore down on his insides when he discovered that his brother died…but even before the crippling compression of his chest can render him breathless, his mind stops.

"Mo…ther." A disjointed articulation, barely above the breeze. _That animal…was headed towards my village. _

He runs.

_It got her. It got her. It got her._

Ice stings his skin but Alois is numb.

_She's dead. She's dead. She's –_

To the biting cold, to his torrid throat – to the sight and leaden stench of his mother lying twisted and torn atop the tepid threshold, suffocated by a serrated neck and a pool of blood that makes her look too much like his grandmother's deer dinner – to all of this, Alois is numb.

Lidded eyes linger on spilled organs, resting on her heart only a few feet away. A minute passes. And then another. And as shriek after shrill shriek erupt from the peasants in his village, while house after house is pillaged and shredded by that woolen wolf, as Alois is indifferently ripped away from his mother's corpse by a woodsman, as more and more blood pools at his feet, the boy commits the image of that heart to memory. It's the image of the heart that saw only his brother's face in his eyes. He wants to remember. He wants to remember that, even after all of her false and pathetic displays of affection, her heart was as cold and as black as he had originally thought it to be.

~3~

"Thank you for seeing him here,"

The woodsman's bloodied brow casts a miserable shadow over relieved yet tired eyes as he nods towards Alois' grandmother. "I am only grateful that the beast did not get to your village…" He spares a glance at the blonde boy, picking up on his blatant indifference but dismissing it as paralyzing fear. "Elsa…if you require assistance of any kind, don't hesitate to search for me." Another sideways glance falls upon the child before Alois is pulled gently through the doorframe.

She agrees, holding her grandson to her bosom as the woodsman prepares to return to his village and rescue more survivors. "Be careful" she calls to the man's back, her sandpaper speech losing speed and sincerity through the carnage-contaminated air. Naturally, as the forest engulfs the man's form, Elsa whips the child into the wall and – _bang_, the door clatters closed against its worn wooden hinges. "What have you done?"

He can feel the rancid rush of respiration heating his frozen features; accordingly, his numbness melts into a small snarl. "An animal attacked our village, I couldn't stop it."

"I _knew_ you had seen the wolf when you opened your mouth about that path at dinner! I should have killed you while I had the chance." Scaly hands release the boy's arm from a tenacious clutch before the grandmother paces towards her dainty arrangement of butcher knives. "Now look what you've done, you lead it straight to the humans."

He allows his light brows to lift; bleached teeth scraping over a reddened lip as he subconsciously wonders if the old woman is serious. "Mom's dead." he mentions, as if he just told her the time.

She doesn't move.

"I _said_ my mother -"

"I heard what you said" It takes only a split second for her to snap as she pivots away from the pot of scalding water and the knives to glare at Alois. "And now I'll have to let you stay here. The council won't keep me if they hear I left my grandson to the wolf."

The prestigious and elusive council of elders – every miniscule movement Elsa makes is in the name of the council. If it weren't for the unprecedented influence and undisputable power they hold over all villages in the area, Alois would have openly defied her years ago. But such is not the case.

"The beast has already passed through so make yourself useful and bring in some firewood."

Since such is not the case he bites back the bitter profanities lingering on his tongue. "Yes grandmother" he speaks, soft as curdled butter.

Outside, the air is still, remnants of the massacre dwindling down to a mere disquietude within the forest. The boy trudges into the thick trees, both certain and unsure of his destination. He leans down before a tree to collect its fallen branches, lifting and cradling the sharp sticks halfheartedly.

When he comes across the last branch, fragile fingers struggle to rip it from the icy clutches of the earth where it has frozen; the boy tugs at the tree limb once, twice, and on the third try, something blows against the top of his head.

Gradually he rises, keeping his hand wrapped around the sliver of wood as he brings his eyes up to meet a pileous snout, nostrils flaring and expelling gusts of fevered air at his head.

For a moment again, the boy's pupils dare to search for what he knows lies beyond that monstrous nose. As the glowing golden irises of the wolf burn into his, the child forgets his legs. He looks straight into the eyes of the thing that murdered his mother, fascinated and frightened beyond measure, unable to move until the animal itself taps its moist nose against the boy's. At this, Alois drops every stick as he falls, leaving them scattered about him as he scrambles backwards into the trunk of an exceptionally rough tree. "W-what do you want with me?" When the words leave his lips he instantly thinks himself a fool for trying to speak to a feral beast.

It moves its limbs one at a time until its front paws are on either side of the child's trembling legs. Naturally, as the wolf towers over him, it does not respond. Instead, to the boy's dismay, a heavy paw is placed upon his chest, pressing his little body deeper into the snow.

Before Alois can attempt to push it away and run, he notices, wedged carefully between the sharp claws, something familiar.

It's a tightly stitched cloth, burgundy in color with a barely noticeable L embroidered in its corner.

Blue eyes widen, pink lips part in terrified elation. "Luka…" His gaze shifts under confusion-bent eyebrows from the beady eyes to the cloth that once belonged to his brother.

At that utterance, the paw is lifted off his chest as it leaves the cloth upon Alois' equally red cloak, and the wolf stalks away into the deeper part of the forest.

"Wait!" His words are lost in the thick silence as he is left alone, perplexed and as excited as ever.

"Alois, it's time to come home" comes the distant call of his grandmother, the light voice straining to remain sweet with the knowledge that the council would be listening.

Even through the easy tone, the agitation between each of the woman's words is enough to quell the strangely titillating tingle in his heated cheeks. The proximity of those eyes was too much, he thinks.

Glancing again around him to make sure he truly is alone, Alois retrieves the firewood, tucking his brother's cloth securely within the folds of his hood before returning to his new home.

All the while, as Elsa stuffs him with the undercooked meat of a rabbit, – only so that the council won't reprimand her for starving a child – Alois thumbs the crocheted cloth beneath the table, devising a plan to call the wolf back to him.

A/N: Yes, yes, I know that chapter was RIDICULOUSLY short and it was updated ridiculously late….but guys, it's the first semester of college and I'm finding myself writing two words per day. But, now that I'm getting accustomed to the way things work in college, I'll most likely update more often. I got some really good advice from my English class and that advice was to write for yourself, and also, one of my favorite authors – the lovely, talented and gorgeous Little Storm said don't write for reviews, so I'm not going to do that. I'll just write the things I have planned, and if people happen to like it, I'll be happy. If not, feel free to let me know what I can improve on. Also, if you have any suggestions for this story, lemme kno. Mmmkaaay? Okay well thank you guys for reading this and I hope you continue to do so!~


	3. Chapter 3 (Sorry it's damn short)

Chapter Three:

This chapter is dedicated to my darling dear gecko Marceliene, who died two weeks ago at 1 and a-half years old.

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He remains still on his bed of thinning rugs and waits for night to fall, eyes clear and searching the sooty ceiling while his hand clenches the cloth to his steadily thumping chest. And fall the night does; with an unusual clatter about the roof that's too light for his grandmother to hear over her own strident snores. With nothing better to do, the boy rises and draws his cloak about him before slipping outside and lifting his face to the darkness. The sight of his roof brings an instant twitch to his lip, though, not out of fear. Vultures. Three of them strutting awkwardly on the shingles, bobbing their heads on rawboned necks and flapping feathered wings like a villain tapping his fingers. Following their pointed beaks he cranes his own slim neck, trying to steal a glance at the poor dead animal he knows they want to devour. But an animal is not what he finds slathered in blood across the snow.

Shoeless, he strides towards what he believes is an injured man and kneels at the other's side in curiosity. The child has never been frightened by dead things, and that alone allows him to lean in to inspect the corpse. Closer now, Alois rolls the tall human onto its back, turning the blood-encrusted face away from stained snow. Matted black strands obscure the pale skin around closed eyes and a parted mouth, but Alois can tell - after running his eyes shamelessly across the body - that it's definitely a man that has died. He lifts a finger to brush the hair away, lingering longer than he should by the angular jaw as his eyes widen zestfully. It then occurs to him to test for breath. His hand darts under the bloody nostrils and he feels faint warmth tickle his skin before the cycle of chilling inhale and heated exhale resumes. A small smirk accompanies a fluttering heartbeat. Tiny fingers hesitate before skimming over the reddened cloth on the man's sides; eventually, he finds what he's looking for.

With the quickest of glances and the lightest of touches Alois moves the pads of his digits over the knife that's wedged within the man's left side – but only after he's sure he is alone with the man. It's carefully crafted, a simple spiral pattern etched into the wood of the handle. The sick and persistent push of curiosity catches his thoughts in a tightly woven web; Alois' hand cannot be stopped as it moves to rest on the handle. One more look at the man's face satisfies him as he sees that both eyes remain shut. The boy's heart races in anticipation and with a capricious jerk of his wrist, Alois pulls the blade out.

Then, in the width of time it takes the younger one to notice a fresh river of blood spilling from the incision, the man's wide palm springs up from the ground, crushing and cutting into feeble flesh - his ferocious and febrile eyes enlarging with rage until the weapon tumbles from Alois' throbbing fingers.

The child shivers as his wrist is released and the man's eyes roll back into his head from exhaustion. Around him the world is silent; the vultures have departed and it's as if nothing has happened, spare the fresh dark pool in the snow. Yet, the dull pulsating pain seeping into each finger serves as a reminder that the man had in fact woken up...but what about those eyes?

There was no mistaking the lucid gold color; or maybe that part had been imagined.

Knees raw and red with cold, Alois rises on trembling legs to cover the spilled blood with a layer of snow. Something spins inside his mind; a thought so troubling and obscure that it overwhelms him with unnatural desire, and his little eyes barely have time to blink before the stranger's ankles are being held tightly in his palms - the unconscious male weighs just enough that the distance from the front of the hut to the shed in back won't be too strenuous.

~3~

He watches the man sleep from his spot on the shed floor, jolting slightly every time the stranger's eyes flicker under pale lids.

Getting the bandages and bucket of water from his grandmother had been easy; he'd claimed to need them for a wounded deer and the old woman had shoved him off, mumbling something about a feminine grandson ruining her image with the council. It was the actual bandaging that had been hard, not knowing what to do once he had lifted the stained shirt from the stranger's chest, trying to ease it over his arms and ripping the thin fabric irreparably in the process. And, once that injured torso was fully exposed, hardened muscles unconsciously clenching against the cold, Alois tied the bandages into a sloppy and inexperienced knot that couldn't have been more useless.

Now he sits cross-legged, analyzing the patched wound with a deep and enveloping curiosity, wondering what in the world could have happened.

"I see they haven't gotten you yet."

Thousands of prickling chills course through the boy's spine, sending his mind into a reeling and maddening stupor at the sound of the stranger's voice, smooth and dark like liquid hemlock. "E-excuse me…?" He despises the way his own words sound, devastatingly polite and a tad frightened as they crackle timidly from his throat. "Who are…_they_?"

The man's fully alert eyes meet the ones of the younger, capturing his breath yet again. "Not that it matters."

"What may I call you?" The question spills as quickly as a knocked-over glass, and Alois wishes he could wipe his words away. Suddenly he finds the poorly tied cloth around wound extremely interesting.

The stranger hesitates. "Claude" he says, and in that instant he sits up cautiously, gripping his side as the bandages fall away from his bare chest.

Alois swallows thickly, allowing his eyes to lift towards Claude's. "So then, Claude…is there anything I can get for you?" He restrains himself, keeping his stare directed at the other's face and _only_ his face.

"No." The older replies stoically, shifting onto shaking legs before standing. Alois stands too, instantly throwing his arms out in support. But he is not needed. "I will ask one thing of you, though." With that, he leans in, close enough in proximity to the boy's face for the younger to catch the faintest scent of the woods on his skin. "What is your wish?"

Alois wavers, trying to define and dissect the man's words. "My…wish?" He contemplates everything, struggling to find something he wants – anything – something to make Claude stay. But his detested village is wiped out, all of the people he hated so, gone. There is nothing else, he concludes with a clouded mind, nothing else he could possibly ask for as of now.

In the boy's silence, Claude straightens. "Very well then," the man is collected and calm as he whispers against blushing lips; it's as if the large wound in his side is nonexistent. "Come and find me when you have a wish." And with that, he is gone, already disappearing into the thick and snowy forest without a single square of cloth to shield his chest.

"A wish…" The child exhales, staring after Claude's footsteps from the same spot he had been in when the male was so close to him.

He collects the now useless medical supplies, once he collects himself, and brings everything back into the house as he wonders what to wish for.

As he notices his gaunt fingers wrestling with uncooked meat and feels the cool blood of an unidentified animal trickling down his chin at dinner, he thinks about wishing for real food. As his grandmother continually degrades him, he thinks about wishing for her death. But no thought strikes him forcefully enough, not until he catches the old woman that night – when she thinks he's asleep – padding into his room and stealing the little sliver of red, stitched cloth from inside his hood.

Something is amiss, he knows, and in this moment, he realizes his wish.

* * *

End A/N: Sorry it was so late! And OOC. And MOTHER OF GOD, I suppose I just SUCK at writing long chapters….sorry….I prrroooommiiissseee, the next one will be a bit longer. I barely had time because I almost burned my frickin dorm building down. METAL DOES NOT MICROWAVE, EVERYONE. I was too busy becoming a social pariah. Plus...ya know, midterms and 5 hours a day of cheer practice and getting run over by a car on my way to math class and such. This one wasn't as fancy as the others...sorry about that too. I wish y'all would follow me on tumblr or Facebook so I could tell you when I'm close to updating/not updating for 2 days ect, and you won't think I'm dead or that I've quitting writing. Haha ;pp there's only like what, two of u anyways? So it's .com and...if you don't like Yaoi, don't scroll through my posts. Lolol I mean...this could easily be rated M for "violence and shit"...but it could also be rated M for...other...things. Oh my gawd i feel like a dirty old man. But TELL ME what you want and you shall get it. Eventually. Luv u guyzzzzzz.

Huge thank you to Nataliemichaelis. You rock. For just being awesome.


	4. Revenge (Chapter freakin 4)

**Chapter…what chapter even is this…Chapter Four. Yeah. Four. EHRM. More appropriately, "Snippet four," because GUESS WHAT. It's short - well actually it's not that short - and it sucks, but some of you like it short so that's good. And GUESS WHAT ELSE. I have no time in my life to open Microsoft documents that aren't 5 page papers about the racial barriers in America or the lack of funding for arts programs. And I want to cry. T_T What a horrible life college is. Haha ;p Anyways. Enough about my whining, I just wanted to put **_**something**_** out…and this is that something.**

**This chapter/snippet is dedicated to you. ALL OF YOU. If you ever wanted a dedication, here's to you. Because you're special. And every pretty fan should go to a ball. NO IDEA where I'm going with this. Have fun kids.**

* * *

"I've decided what to wish for," he stands rooted in the thickening snow, facing the edge of the clearing and shivering – not from cold alone. What foolishness has brought him here, he cannot say. The implications of a wish, maybe. The promise of being able to slip his fingers into the strings of fate and make destiny his puppet, perhaps. The hope of seeing that man again…what foolishness has brought him here, he cannot say.

At the slight ruffling of his cloak the boy spins restlessly, glancing every which way just incase the wind is a signal or sign. But it isn't; the wind is but the wind, the caw of the blackbird is just the voice of a speechless animal, and the rustling in the bushes is only –

But it _isn't_ just rustling. Without a word of warning the one he waits for emerges from within the shrubbery. Alois thinks to ask why Claude was in a bush, but the preditorial stare coming from the other burns his thoughts to useless ash.

"Is that so…" The words fall softer than snow.

The man takes a step forward, Alois takes one back. The soft ground swallows his black boots but still, he towers over the boy. Swallowing once, the younger nods, careful not to remove his eyes from Claude's covered chest just yet. Even though a short distance still separates them, the little one's head barely clears the man's shoulders. "Yes. I wish…" He then watches a smirk tug the corners of the other's lips, looking anywhere but into his golden irises. The way his words tremble and shake irritates his mouth – the insecurity sears sensitive skin until his small fists clench and the electricity in Alois' eyes sparks to life. "…For revenge."

_Insecurity into certainty, wishes into fulfillment, skepticism into unnatural trust; unbreakable bonds. _

A sound escapes the other, from deep within his throat. No movements are made, no acknowledgement shown. The only sound is something that Alois interprets as a _"hmph."_

And he looked then, watched for the trees to tremble and the snow to shift, but everything was still. "Well..?"

"Well…" Claude repeats, the subtle lift of his lip beginning to grow more and more prominent. "Now, I will stand by you and ensure your revenge. That is…if you're ready."

With that, something in him changes. Although his environment stays perfectly still, as if waiting for a reaction – a raise of skin, a flutter of fingers, _anything_ to signify significance; his insides churn, blood beating against bones and tongue scraping against the pliable pink of his mouth like rigid rock. It's his tongue that hurts the worst, and he isn't sure why until he tastes the blood, until he finally turns his attention to the impossible inimical pressure of his own teeth grinding incessantly into muscle with relentless anticipation. He can taste the sugared sting of vengeance pooling on his taste buds already. "Yes. I'm ready."

The man comes closer, crushing the concept of personal space as he reaches down to grab the boy's face, black nails pressing into flushed flesh. "There is no going back now. We have made a deal."

Alois can't stop now; he looks directly into the other's eyes and is rendered regrettably useless and stupid in Claude's grasp. "A…a deal…so what will you take in return?"

Half a second proves to be long enough for the boy to catch the fleeting glint of amusement as it rushes across Claude's face, leaving telltale ripples across the mouth as it fades. "You'll find out when I take it." Slowly he backs away, receding into the bushes he came from and leaving Alois without much more than a tingling trace of his touch upon his face.

_Revenge._ He wonders how it will happen, _when _it will happen…and for a moment clouded with unspeakable doubt, he wonders if it will even happen at all.

~3~

The first death comes soon after.

Ribbons of shredded intestines curl around the crushed corpse at his doorstep; it's placed perfectly in front of his house, as if it were an offering.

It's one of the council members; Alois can tell by the way his grandmother stands wide-eyed while mumbling incomprehensible prayers, shutting him inside the house as she respectfully cleans up the claw-marked body and tries to cover the old man's face.

_He's the wolf. He has to be…_

But that thought dissolves when Claude appears at his side the next day.

"We will start working towards your revenge today." He watches as his announced presence makes the boy abandon his grandmother's bloodied clothing in the half-frozen lake, his little blue fingers giving up on scrubbing them clean.

"Claude!" The name spills from his lips as his thin brows come together. "But what about…" Alois looks down intently at the stream, thin rivulets of red flowing from the garment. "That council man yesterday. That was you, wasn't it?"

The man's face mimics his confusion minimally, with the slight cock of an eyebrow but nothing more. "No." Claude comes closer then, taking the child's hands dutifully to rub some warmth back into them. "The blood you desire belongs to someone else."

Without removing his gaze from the gentle hands around his, Alois asks, "Who might that be?"

"His name is Sebastian Michaelis."

"Se-bas-tian..." the little one tries the name on his tongue, tasting the tension in the T.

Though he tries his best to push some blood back into those soft pale hands, Alois can barely move his fingers. "So we'll kill him and be done with it."

"No, we can't do that," but it's not the killing he has a problem with.

At this, Claude catches his eye and lifts the boy's hand to his lips. "Are you sure? Revenge is what you want, is it not?" Before Alois can avert his eyes Claude's mouth is around his fingers, softly sliding around them and making blood rush to more than the tips of the boy's fingers.

His face is a deeper shade of scarlet than his grandmother's clothing. "What I mean is..." he finally manages the words after his hand slips out with pealing _pop_. "What I mean is that we shouldn't kill him. That would be too easy."

A semblance of a smile haunts Claude's features.

"I want to make him suffer, condemn him to a fate worse than death." The sound of his intentions alone is enough to bring him to his knees with excitement. "I want you to help me make this Sebastian fellow beg me to kill him."

The man actually smirks this time, breaking his near-emotionless existence. "I thought you'd never ask." Stepping away towards Alois' home, he pauses, waiting for the younger to follow. "We begin now."

"Right," the boy straightens, wrapping his cloak around his thin body before hurrying to catch up - the bloodstained garment left to weave with the river's calm current at the bank of the stream; a prelude to the blood he longs to shed for revenge.

* * *

THE END.

(Of the chapter)

**A/N:** **Oh come on. Like you haven't stuffed your fingers into your mouth to warm them up when it's cold outside. Or maybe that's just me. DERP! I wanted the "revenge" part to be a surprise but the damn chapter title gave it away. Yeah yeah I know I'm the one that wrote the title there...whatever. It's a good title. Not like I've ever made any titles for the rest of the chapters anyways. SO. Shall we shoot for double update week? NO because last time THAT happened, nobody liked it. Bahaha whatever, if it happens you have the right to remain surprised. Now I'll go back to writing more shitty stories and zombiefeels. See ya next chapter ;p **


	5. Chapter 5 (The End)

**A/N:****This is...the second? Yeah, the second to last update from me, like, ever...if you count Black Twlight two. So, after this chapter, it'll be the end of the story. So...that's why it took so darn long. If anybody's even reading this...heh...this is the end!**

* * *

"You'll find him on the west side of the forest," Claude's fingers curl around the string of the red cloak, tying it off curtly as he dictates directions. "Do not waste a second speaking to him, do what you must to bring him back here." With the final loop drawn taught acrost his chest the boy feels that Claude has just sealed his fate. A single pat on the shoulder sends Alois off, searching for the target of his revenge though a forest as dark as the thoughts that arrest his mind. Not a second later he turns back, eyes glistening with excitement as he can practically smell Claude's loyalty on the breeze. "Go. Bring him back to me. I have other things to attend to." When the child doesn't continue the man adds, "Something pertaining...to your revenge. Now leave." and Alois does.

His heart; it pumps the blood that races warm and thick through pulsing veins - holds the memory of his brother close and beating, makes the souls of his shoes itch with desire to run fast, run _faster_ to find the man that stopped his brother's breath and become the bane of his existence. Cold ceaces to phase him as the wind whips at his blushing skin, raw _emotion_ alone keeping him ablaze as he imagines the murderer being reduced to a shade of a man by _his_ Claude. By _his_ contract. At last, justice will come.

Few huts stand at the western edge, all houses dispersed and isolated within the trees, all houses dark decayed and crumbling with the stench of the wolf's last attack - all houses except one. The exception glows dully in the moonlight as the candles in each window expel a warm orange halo. Alois wants nothing more than to extinguish that flame, to right the wrongs that he's been dealt.

Pulling the red hood over his head the snow-covered child steps up to Sebastian's front door, knocking weakly on the wood before falling to his knees. A wave of warmth wafts through the door as it whispers open, a concerned hum from Sebastian echoing over the wind when he sees Alois shivering on his doorstep. "Please, sir...spare me from the cold" the young fraud wails, never once allowing his narrowed eyes to leave the ground.

"Alois...what happened? Come inside - let me help you..." at the sound of his name blonde brows knit together as he finally examines the face of his brother's murderer. As the man kneels down to lift the boy, black hair bringing out striking scarlet irises, something familiar shines in the voice of Sebastian's sympathy. Something about him tells Alois he's seen him before, but he cannot recall where. The thought flees from his mind faster than his fingers freeze as they grip the cold iron bar hidden against his back. A peek of pale flesh, vulnerable and pulsing with Sebastian's blood, pulls a predatory instinct from the child. When the man is close enough that Alois can feel the heat radiating from his skin, his wrist snaps forward and the bar crashes deep into Sebastian's skull. Instantly the man collapses against the grinning boy, out cold but not dead just yet.

Scowling at the feeling of the man's blood dripping onto his cheek Alois rises to grasp both of Sebastian's ankles. Though, as he begins to drag the unconscious man through the snow, a garnet trail as distinguishable as Alois' content spilling across the snow, the smile won't leave his face. Revenge is here.

~3~

"What do you want?" Elsa's failing eyes slip over the tall male in front of her house as he invites himself in.

Claude pushes past her, pressing the old woman up against the closed door as he snarls. "Isn't it obvious?" Against his hold she stands her ground, staring straight into sickly shimmering eyes at the deception in his soul. "I want you to get the council to stop shaming the wolf."

"Never." Her words come cracked and quivering, a far cry from the tenacity in her eyes and the courageous curve of her fists.

The male growls, a guttural sound rumbling deep within his throat as wide hands move to clench her neck. "If you don't comply with my request...I'll kill you like I killed the council chairman."

At that she gasps, the threat of death becoming all too real - the realization of what he was striking her like a hot iron. Still she stands tall, bringing frail fists to flank her as Claude grins. His serrated smile sets fear inside her heart, but with everything she has, the old woman propels her fist into the man's stomach, distracting him as she takes a well-aimed hit at the side of his face. As he assesses the damage she grabs something from the stove, smashing it against his head.

Claude cries out as the frying pan rattles his brain, but only gets angrier, _stronger_ as irritation builds in his bones. In one swift movement, massive jaws separate, showing two rows of ragged canines as they clamp around the old woman and make his threat a promise.

It is the taste of human flesh that awakens his deepest desires, makes him ravenous and feral, makes the contract undesired. What the beast hungers for now is the child. Only the call of his own name stops him as he feasts on the hag. Her grandson has returned.

"Claude," he calls carefully from outside. "I brought him back to you, he's right here!"

Just as the last drop of blood is wiped from glistening lips the door swings open, Alois dropping the man's legs onto the dusty floor. "See? He's all yours, make him suffer."

Claude's eyes are clouded, the thready flutter beneath the boy's skin calling to his hunger.

"Claude...?" The little voice cuts through thick tension, bringing the beast from his trance.

"Good," he digs into his pocket, bringing out a vile. "Let the torture begin."

The boy wiggles with excitement, propping Sebastian against the wall as he watches with wide eyes. His pulse increases as he wonders what insidious plot Claude will carry out, but confusion plagues him as the other releases a spider just as Sebastian opens his eyes.

The man pales as the spider crawls an inch from his nose. "It's a -"

"It's highly venomous." Claude cracks, "a huntsman spider for the huntsman."

_The huntsman!_ At last Alois' memory jolts, the image of the huntsman rescuing him from his burning village returning to settle in his mind.

Claude holds Sebastian's arms down as the spider crawls around on his face, biting down on his chin. "And unless you cease to hunt the wolf," Claude rasps as Sebastian thrashes, "the anti-venom will be out of your reach...and you'll be dead."

"Alois, run..." But the child doesn't move. "Elsa! Please!" Sebastian screams with anger as he watches the child, wondering how he got here and why the young boy isn't helping him; most of all he wonders why the grandmother doesn't come to help.

Suddenly Claude laughs, sinister and strident as his hunger is unleashed.

"Claude..." True fear takes hold of the boy, shaking off useless revenge as the scent of betrayal permeates the hut. "Where is my grandmother?" As the man he made a contract with turns to trap him against the wall, the child blames himself for not realizing the truth about huntsman's innocence before.

Right away Claude's hands fly to the child's lips, a single finger acting to silence him. "Shh. She can't hear you now."

A nervous glance back at the struggling Sebastian gives Alois an idea. With fate on his side, he believes, he will be able to escape - if he gives Sebastian enough time to stand up. But the finger at his lips, somewhat hairier than he'd remembered, and bloodier than before, brings another notion to mind. "Why...Claude, what happened to your hands? They've grown rather large!"

The man has to pause, grinning as he grips the boy's arms, thinking up a swift lie to hold the child in place. "So I may better comfort you when your grandmother does not come."

"And your ears..." Alois notes, the realization creeping up on him like fog in the night. "Why have your ears changed in size?"

"So that I may hear you and come when you call...I must change to suit my master. We are contracted to each other, after all." The lie slips through his teeth and brings with it a greedy salivation as he stares down his prey.

"And your eyes..." Alois is sure now, the eyes that belonged to the wolf are staring hungrily into his as he speaks.

"The better to see you with, my child." At this point Claude has almost completely transformed, the wolvish characteristics shaping around a sharp and salivating mouth. "I want to see your face as your revenge becomes complete."

"Don't lie to me. You're...you're the..." he is unable to finish as the mouth of the creature opens wide beside his face. "Oh! Your teeth!" With one last look at Sebastian crawling towards Claude's turned back, knife in hand, Alois shuts his eyes tight.

"Yes, I'm _the wolf_." Claude growls and runs his lengthy tongue across each pointed tooth. "All the better to _eat_ you with."

Alois is thrown to the ground then, a cacophonous roar rattling him against the wood as a bloody paw impacts his left eye. Before him Claude stumbles around his hut, the same full-wolf he had encountered in the woods. The animal crashes against the kitchen, pulling pans from the shelves and staining the table with the blood that sprays from Sebastian's knife. With the metal lodged in his back the wolf lunges at Alois, snapping his teeth before falling to the ground and frothing at the mouth. Still in shock the child glances at Sebastian, breathing heavily as the older man collapses too. "Sebastian...! The anti-venom, he doesn't have it."

"It's alright." He coughs, a spot of blood staining his lips. "There's...something you should know...about your brother."

"What is it!" Alois demands, revenge forgotten now, the desire to know the truth coming first.

"Go to the council, " Sebastian manages, "You'll find out what you need to know."

The house is disheveled, everyone inside beyond repair. But still the child gathers the last of his strength and nods, running off to the Mountain of the High Council.

~3~

The journey isn't as trying as he would have thought it to be - the mountain lying at most a few miles from his home. But as the entrance to the Council's hideout comes into view, the aura of the mountain wordlessly wards him away. A deep fog settles near the ground, banishing all paths and vegetation from his sight. Ahead of him lies the entrance, a vacuous void carved into the mountain, shrouded in darkness and a bit of deceit. His jaw squares, and now, indifferent to the most frightening of adversities, he steps inside without an ounce of doubt. Through the winding rocks he maneuvers, stepping over stones and ducking through tunnels, braving the foggy darkness until withered voices reach him from not too far off.

Bolder now he hurries, passed the guard who recognizes him as his grandmother's son and into the center of the room. "Please," he urges the elders, all of them startled to find an outsider in the middle of their meeting. "I need an antidote!"

Each elder sits high upon a marble throne, peering down at the intruding boy as he stalks around in circles pleading with each man. The quartz floor beneath his feet is slowly becoming stained, remnants of the wolf's blood dripping steadily to the ground.

"Why, if it isn't Alois..." One man rises shakily, glasses falling low on his gaunt nose. His white and golden robes wrinkle as he struggles to stand on skeletal legs. "What do you hope to accomplish with an antidote? And what kind do you request?" His voice is as soft as his grey hair is long, and the man gains glares from the entire council as he hobbles towards the young boy.

"Quick, I need the anti-venom for the sting of a huntsman spider." He breathes as he feels each man's stare gravitate towards the blood on his skin. "This is not my blood - it belongs to the wolf. The huntsman Sebastian killed him and was stung. He needs help..."

Every member looks at the elder in the corner, the smile on his chubby face growing with each additional eye of attention. "I told you so," the cheeky man chuckles while the other's eyes grow wide.

"So it's true...the wolf has finally been defeated!"

Alois nods frantically at the men, and the one directly in front of him orders the healer to rescue the heroic huntsman.

"The huntsman will survive. You will also be commended for your valor...is there anything you desire?" Cracked hands rested on the boy's shoulders as the bespectacled elder cast his grey eyes downward.

Alois looks back, shaking his head in confirmation. "Tell me who sealed the fate of my brother."

One wrinkled hand gives the boy a reassuring pat before the elder continues. "There is something you deserve to know." Looking behind him, the man's solemn expression prompts another elder to rise, all eyes shifting to the short one that now made his way to the center of the room. "Stand back, my child."

With a gentle hand the elder redirects Alois to the side of the room and picks up a staff, the glowing orb at the top bubbling brighter as the others point identical sticks at the little man in the middle.

One by one an ancient chant begins to rise, starting off weak and getting stronger as more join, echoing and swelling through the constricted cave. A flash of light catapults from the first elder's spear, sending a sharp chill and a fierce wind through the room that rustles every robe, but does nothing to move the sandled feet they keep rooted in the ground. Alois stares with round eyes as his hair ripples across his face, the blue beams disappearing into the elder in the middle as if they were nothing more than rays from the sun.

A moment later everything stops, the room careening for a second more while the elder bursts into flames. "No!" Alois' hand shoots out, trying desperately to save him somehow, yet not knowing what he can do.

"Calm yourself...this is only the beginning." The man beside him coos, placing the staff on the ground and watching the fire calmly. Eventually, as the charred skin falls away, Alois balks as a new being fills the old man's robe - a woman.

The lady steps softly out of the used skin, her own tan body giving off a glow as she runs a clawed hand through delicate silver tresses. Both of her glowing eyes fall on Alois, and as the woman steps toward him, robes flowing with some unseen current, he can't bring himself to look away. "My name" she starts, her voice causing his ears to strain, "is Hannah. I knew your brother."

"W-what is the meaning of this?" Again his words seem lost in the splendor of the moment, but he pushes on. "What have you done with Luka?" A bold glare directed at the maiden strives to make her blood run cold, but she simply shifts slightly sideways, cocking her head and giving him a look of genuine sympathy.

"What I am about to say may not make any sense to you...but you must believe me." Her voice comes as soft as bells, her fingers tracing the contours of the child's face as she looks into his eyes, seeing the same thing his mother had when she was alive. Yet...somehow, when she sees past him - sees Luka in him, it feels like she sees Alois too. "Your brother made a contract with me." She senses his shoulders stiffen and draws back. "He stipulated that I take his soul as sustinence...in return for your safety from the wolf." When a single tear slips from the child's eye, she adds, "it was his greatest wish that you'd be safe." She wipes the salty trail away with a swift swipe of a clawed thumb. "And so you are."

All of the elders smile simultaneously, sharing in a special secret that not even the devotion of a demon can reveal.

"So...before I go...let me grant one last wish." A great and powerful hope surges through the enclosure, a blinding and heavenly light bursting forth from flowing robes of the woman. "_Your_ wish."

_My wish..._

His feet ache. His arms burn. He looks up at the demoness, hopeless and dumb, the swollen skin around his left eye making him tired. So, so tired. And, as he thinks of the grandmother Claude killed...the mother he lost...the father who ran and the brother - taken...his exhausted heart can only conjure one wish.

"I want to be with him," he whispers, the elders around him smiling still, singing in chants and showing him a warmth he never knew. Growing and growing, louder and hotter. "I want to be with my brother."

Another soft smile from smooth red lips, another brush of a tan finger pad over a drying trail of tears. One more utterance from the girl, and then, all is done. "Yes," she whispers, watching the child as his eyes blaze bright in anticipation of the demon's kiss, "So it shall be."

and so it was.

~3~

The End. For serious.

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**A/N:** **If anybody's out there, anybody at all...thanks for sticking with me and I'll be on AO3 from now on in the Starfighter fandom. Ahh thanks for reading~**

**Edit: Actually I might not even add anything to Black Twilight 2...I'm pretty sure I'm just going to delete it where it stands because I just...don't like where it's going and apparently neither do you guys. Lol...I'm sorry...I wish I could have done the series justice. I'm just going to leave Kuro fic writing to Kuro fic writers and get outa here...yea? ughhhh. I just want to thank everyone for sticking with me for so long, though! heh. Naataliiieee thanks for your overwhelming support. **

"VaderVengeance" on tumblr.


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